


let me fix your overdrive

by inkk



Category: Led Zeppelin
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Come as Lube, Dry Orgasm, Jimmy Breaks Robert: Not Clickbait, Light Dirty Talk, Light Sadism, M/M, Marathon Sex, Overstimulation, PWP, Praise Kink, Rimming, Teasing, because this is my house and that's how i roll, it’s not exactly fisting but i guess it’s close-ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-26 22:57:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17755076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkk/pseuds/inkk
Summary: It occurs to Robert that he’s dying. He’s dying, or maybe dead, and Jimmy has killed him, and now all he will be remembered for henceforth are his tight jeans and that song about his cock.





	let me fix your overdrive

**Author's Note:**

> 👋 hi! this is porn. please make sure you read the tags :-)  
> -  
> for the purpose of our story, wives and children don’t exist and never have. everything is consensual. setting is super ambiguous tbh, but i like to imagine it taking place sometime around the early 70s as far as physical appearance goes.  
> title comes from _Trampled Underfoot_.... aaand last but not least, everything is obviously 100% fiction!  
> enjoy & have fun! happy valentine’s day ;-)

+

 

“One more, darling.”

Jimmy’s looking down at him, sprawled out at the end of the bed with his hair in a sweaty halo against the sheets, bare chest heaving. Robert has long since passed the point of continual whimpering, but still manages a weak, exhausted whine when he catches sight of the look in Jimmy’s eyes.

How many times has he come now - Four? Five? It feels almost impossible to keep track, but yet somehow Jimmy still seems determined to keep going. Robert hasn’t had a moment’s rest. He’s beginning to fear he may actually pass out, if they continue at this pace. He’s already been fucked, sucked, eaten, beaten, sat on, spat on, edged for the better part of an hour… Jesus, what more can there be left to do? How is Jimmy keeping this up?

The bastard has already come twice himself earlier on - once onto Robert’s chest and once inside of him, the evidence leaking out onto the sheets between the golden skin of his splayed thighs - and yet he’s still watching Robert with that same, calculatedly hungry look as when they first tumbled into bed a good few hours previous. His normally-emerald eyes look practically black in the glow of the lamplight.

A helpless sound bubbles up out of Robert’s throat. “Pagey, please,” he manages weakly. He’s not even sure whether that means _’please stop’_ or _’please keep going’_. At this point, it all seems to blend together anyways.

“Just give me one more,” Jimmy repeats quietly.

It’s not phrased as a question, and Robert doesn’t want it to be. He wouldn’t know the answer if he tried. Instead, he just closes his eyes and lets his head loll back, calves dangling limply off the end of the bed.

He stays pliant against Jimmy’s touch at his ankles, allowing his legs to be pushed up and apart in order to expose him as he feels warm, sure hands land at the backs of his knees to keep him there.

Robert gives a feeble shudder as Jimmy’s breath ghosts across the very inside of his left thigh. His fingers flex in the sheets when he feels a warm, wet tongue sliding across the bite mark left there earlier, painfully close to his poor, confused cock.

“Jimmy,” he breathes, eyes cracking open. “Jimmy, I don’t know if I can—”

“You can,” Jimmy says, barely withdrawing his mouth as his gaze flicks up to meet Robert’s. “I know you can.”

Robert swallows, has to tear his eyes away as he nods.

It’s all the permission Jimmy needs to push his legs up higher, palms gripping against the hot, smack-reddened skin of his arse until Robert’s halfway folded back over himself. He mouths lower and lower, licking and nipping and sucking his way down until that wicked, wicked tongue finally skates across the relaxed muscle of Robert’s entrance.

A breath snags in Robert’s lungs as Jimmy sets about working him there, unable to do more than twitch in response. He’s almost embarrassed at how eagerly Jimmy delves in with his tongue, knowing how loose and red and ruined he must be, Jimmy’s own come acting as slick to ease the way. The though is enough to make him flutter and clench, hands grasping stiffly at the bedspread while he watches in dazed wonderment as Jimmy’s head of black hair bobs between his legs.

Jimmy hardly seems to notice that Robert is barely managing to get hard. If anything, he probably just doesn’t care - his tongue is poking and prodding, sliding and lapping and sucking with single-minded focus, as if it doesn’t even matter that he’s rendering Robert into even more of a trembling mess.

“Fuck,” Robert pants as he feels two fingers slide inside of himself, smooth and easy. There’s a desperation in his tone when a third nudges its way in shortly after and he chokes out, “Pagey, please—”

Jimmy raises his head enough to meets Robert’s eyes. “Please what?” he asks neutrally, entirely unabashed of the mix of spit and his own ejaculate coating his chin.

He doesn’t remove his fingers, and Robert groans when he feels them continue to curl and massage, hips ticking up despite himself. “Just— Sore,” he says. “It’s too much, fuck, I can’t…”

Jimmy’s answering smile is saccharine. “Of course you can,” he says, red lips wet and shiny, and then withdraws his fingers just enough that he can push back in with four.

The sound Robert makes is strangled and unholy, practically wrenched out of him. “Fuck,” he cries out, voice cracking as his hips jerk, “ _Jimmy—_ ”

It’s too much, too long. He’s burning, aching, sore and stretched out, but Jimmy isn’t showing any signs of abatement. Robert knows he could use that word and make it all stop. He knows the final say is ultimately his - he could utter those three syllables at any point and he knows that Jimmy would wipe him off and bring him water, dress him gently, talk to him until he fell asleep. He knows. But he can’t bring himself to do it.

Not now; not when Robert is writhing on the bed with the better part of Jimmy’s hand stuffed up inside of him, every single movement making him feeling so overwhelmed he can hardly tell whether he should be moving towards it or away. It hurts, of course it does, but—

“Beautiful,” he hears Jimmy purr. “Look at you. Just beautiful.”

Robert feels so hot, so covered in sweat he doesn’t even know what to do with himself. When he glances down over his bite-ridden stomach and meekly half-hard cock, he’s greeted with the sight of Jimmy looking back up at him with rapt attention, all the while never ceasing the slow in-and-out drag of his fingers.

“You think I could fit it all in?” Jimmy asks him lightly, a hint of curiosity in his tone.

He could. Robert knows he could; he can feel how stretched out he is, already open wide almost all the way up to Jimmy’s knuckles with four of those long, thin digits working inside - it would be so easy for Jimmy to tuck in a thumb as well, to push just a little deeper and feel himself swallow Jimmy up to his wrist, warm and willing and so, so full, but he _can’t_. It’s too much.

Robert looks away quickly and shakes his head, feeling close to tears when he babbles, “No, Jimmy, please don’t, I can’t, I— Just fuck me, please, I...” he swallows.

“Okay,” Jimmy murmurs soothingly. He ducks his head in acquiescence and presses a kiss to each of Robert’s thighs, mouthing softly over his balls, his cock, his stomach. “Alright,” he says, voice quiet as he finally slips his fingers out, “Okay. Alright. Turn over, dearest.”

Robert breathes a jagged exhale of relief and lets his legs fall, thighs aching as he pulls himself up the bed enough to roll over onto his stomach. His cock drags torturously over the sheets, but he doesn’t have time to concentrate on that before Jimmy is pushing his legs back apart and crawling over him, guiding his cock to Robert’s entrance. It’s maybe not the most ideal position, but Robert’s so limp and exhausted it hardly matters. He doesn’t think he could make it to his hands and knees if he tried.

“Wonderful,” Jimmy says fondly, briefly sliding the head of his cock over the rim of Robert’s hole, catching slightly but not quite pushing in just yet. “So wonderful, darling. You’re so open for me.”

The noise Robert makes as he finally pushes in is almost indistinguishable from a sob. It’s a quick, steady shove, made easy by the slick remnants of spit, lubricant and come, and it _aches_ as he glides forward until his hips land snug up against Robert’s arse.

Robert’s mouth drops open in a soundless gasp against the bedspread. A cry seems to catch in the back of his throat as Jimmy draws back and quickly drives in again, Robert’s body seeming utterly incapable of putting up any resistance as he’s shoved further into the mattress.

“You take me so well,” Jimmy tells him, voice dropping low. “So easy, Robert. Like you were fucking made for it.”

Robert’s only reply is a muffled whimper, breathing made jagged by the force of Jimmy’s hips against him. He feels halfway-incoherent, incapable of thought and practically powerless as Jimmy pounds ceaselessly into him, taking what he wants while Robert lies there in an oversensitized heap. His eyes flutter closed as his cheek rubs against the sheets. Every nudge against his prostate feels like he‘s that much closer to dissolving completely, but he can’t do more than shudder and allow it to happen. Dimly, he wonders if this is how he’s going to die.

What would the headlines read - ‘Zeppelin Singer Tragically Shagged To Death By Insatiable Guitarist’? ‘Percy Plant No Match For Magic Fingers’? The press would have a veritable field day coming up with that title. There’s not a doubt in Robert’s mind that _Whole Lotta Love_ would end up getting dragged into it.

“Fuck,” Jimmy curses hot against his neck, pulling Robert out of his delirious ponderings. “God, you’re so good for me, aren’t you?”

Robert’s foot twitches as he groans brokenly into the mattress. Truthfully, he’s almost glad he can’t see Jimmy’s face from this position - the low, aroused timbre of his voice alone is already enough to drive Robert mad, not to mention his poor, struggling cock still trapped at half-mast between his body and the bed.

Jimmy’s weight rests on top of him - not too terribly heavily, given his willowy frame, but enough so that Robert still finds himself quite pinned as his body is rocked with each thrust of Jimmy’s hips.

He won’t last much longer. Already, Robert can feel Jimmy’s rhythm quickening in the familiar way it always does when he’s not bothering to restrain himself from chasing his own release; rough, careless, entirely selfish, and still exactly, perfectly how Robert wants it to be.

The reedy moan is ripped from him as Jimmy shoves in two, three, four, five more times, quick and vicious. Finally, Robert registers the falter in his pace, the jerk of his cock and the warmth spilling inside of him, the slackened urgency as Jimmy works himself through it.

After an eternity, it stops.

The room goes quiet. Robert holds onto the sheets as Jimmy pulls out with a wet, undignified noise, brow momentarily furrowing in the faintest display of discomfort as Jimmy withdraws and the air hits him.

“Hey,” he hears Jimmy say from somewhere behind him, “C’mon, Robert. C’mere.”

There are hands on his shoulders, at first massaging, then tugging. Robert allows himself to be rolled over onto his back. When he opens his eyes again, it’s to find Jimmy’s face swimming above him, hair seeming to glow around the edges so that the lamplight lends him the appearance of a halo as he looks down. Robert doesn’t even realize he’s been crying until he feels one of Jimmy’s thumbs wiping over the wetness on his temple. He doesn’t know if he’s ever felt this exhausted before in his life.

“So beautiful,” Jimmy murmurs, using his right hand to comb Robert’s sweaty hair back as the left drifts down over the marks littering Robert’s stomach. “You’ve done wonderfully, darling. I just want one more.”

“Jimmy,” Robert breathes, his voice breaking halfway through the word. “Jimmy—”

The rest of whatever he might have said is cut off in a choked-off groan as Jimmy’s hand curls around his softened cock and tugs - too firm, too raw, too fast, too _much_. Robert’s abdominal muscles clench as if urging him to curl in on himself. His shocked gasp is loud in the silence, eyes wide and hazy as they meet Jimmy’s.

“Hurts,” he manages thickly.

“Yes,” Jimmy confirms with a smile, not ceasing the movement of his hand as he bends to capture Robert’s mouth with his own. He gives the head of Robert’s cock a firm swipe with his thumb and eagerly swallows the yelp he receives in response, lips curving up into a smile where they meet Robert’s. “Almost there,” he says.

Robert shudders, legs trembling under the onslaught of sensation. He’s crying more now, fat tears leaking out the corners of his eyes and soaking into the already-damp hair at his temples, but he hardly notices. He can’t even really tell if he’s hard anymore. All he knows is that every nerve in his body feels overblown and assaulted, like all the touches against his skin are melting together into one confusing jumble of signals pointing nowhere.

“Give it to me, baby,” Jimmy coaxes him, leaning in close against his ear. “Come on. Give it to me. Just one more.”

He lets go to spit in his hand and then wastes no time resuming, twisting his wrist and squeezing just a little. Robert really does sob aloud this time. “ _Jimmy_ —“

“Hush, we’re almost there,” Jimmy kisses him again, soundly placating his little, pained hiccups.

Robert knows he’s right - the pressure is there, muffled underneath that wall of static, and it’s careening towards him at breakneck speed as Jimmy mouths along his neck, sucking at his pulse while steadily working his cock.

There’s a moment where Robert’s breathing gets so dizzyingly fast he’s wonders faintly about a heart attack, and then the next it seems to stop entirely. He’s not entirely sure what’s happening to him; his skin is on fire, body convulsing as his muscles jerk taut, shaking and shuddering and he’s not sure anything is coming out except his vision sort of goes all white for a second anyways.

It occurs to Robert that he’s dying. He’s dying, or maybe dead, and Jimmy has killed him, and now all he will be known for henceforth are his tight jeans and that song about his cock. All he can hear is white noise, like an omnipresent hum in his ears while his lungs struggle for air.

Jimmy’s next words seem muffled and far away. “Look at you,” he’s saying. “I milked you dry, didn’t I?”

The next thing Robert knows, he’s being ripped back down to earth by the sensation of a tongue working at his cock. He’s suddenly seeing sparks, crying and writhing as he struggles to shove Jimmy’s head away; “Stop, stop— Please, Pagey, it’s too much, _stop_ —“

Jimmy finally pulls away with an amused little laugh. Robert’s entire body slackens in relief, chest heaving. He faintly registers the mattress dipping as Jimmy crawls back up the bed, lazily stretching out beside him as he catches his breath.

“That was divine,” Jimmy says after a long pause, chin propped up on one hand.

Robert can hardly muster the energy to turn and look at him. It seems like a gargantuan effort just to let his head roll to the side in order to meet Jimmy’s gaze, cheeks flushed amidst his pile of golden curls. He can feel his heart beating loud and steady in his ears.

“Speak for yourself,” Robert finally mumbles, eyelids drooping halfway shut. “Feels like I’ve been thrown off Buckingham Palace twice and then run over.” He makes a face. “ _And_ I can feel your come leaking out of me.”

Jimmy simply smiles in that way he does; the rare, genuine one that makes his eyes go all squinty and crinkle up at the sides. “I suppose I’ll have to do better next time,” he teases.

“Oh, sod off,” Robert says weakly.

 

+

**Author's Note:**

> kudos rock and comments roll!  
> come say hi on tumblr @[shotgunmessiahs](http://shotgunmessiahs.tumblr.com) ♥️ :-)


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